Heath
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Posts by Heath
Why Do We Poke The Sore Places?
0We do it physically. When we have that bruise or injury, we press it or move it and then think “Ow, yeah that hurts”. We do it emotionally. Think back to that time or place that makes your chest a little tighter as a little pang of…something travels through you. Sometimes I’ll be walking along, perfectly happy and then realize I’m not wistfully longing or reminiscing or being nostalgic and immediately my mind will travel back somewhere until I feel that little burst of pain. Most everyone I’ve had conversations about this with does it too. Why? What’s the point?
I have no idea. Maybe we just like to feel. Feel something. Something powerful to remind us we’re alive. Maybe it’s because those painful memories, those bitter-sweet things…were once just sweet.
Vote for you favorite design
5So once again, I need a jersey for an upcoming gig. Vote for your favorite design:
1. Design 1
2. Design 2
3. Design 3
4. Design 4
*EDIT* by popular demand I’ve added 5. http://www.logosoftwear.com/personalize/myDesign.php?c=23013bf0d7a6d75d4fa72febbdbe5518
6. Submit your own suggestion. I had MANY more ideas but those were my top 4.
My Diva Demands. Divo? Divus?
1Just sent out some info to the band, mostly for our new bass player. This was my final bullet point:
Do not trespass into my stage space, do not look me directly in the eye and don’t ever dare criticize me. I’m first in the dinner line and I never touch equipment to load. I exercise the ancient feudal right of “Primae Noctis.” According to the terms of this right, the lord of the manor had the right to the marriage bed on the first night of a serf or peasant’s marriage. I require a bowl of purple M&Ms, hand painted to perfectly match the color represented by the hexadecimal code #430077. The “m” on them must be 12 point Copperplate Gothic Bold Font.
In Memoriam – Or…Life Is Hard But Please Stay With Us
0An old friend of mine apparently took his own life this week. Now, I hadn’t spoken to him in many many years and we were never super best buds or anything but I did hang out at his house from time to time and really enjoyed our time together. He was one of the nicest, sweetest, funniest, most genuine people I’d ever met. We grew up in the same neighborhood and continued to hang out now and then into adulthood, playing video game and chatting about life’s mysteries. I think the last time I saw him was when we got together to play a Star Wars RPG game. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I saw him but never the less I miss knowing his presence is in the world.
I don’t know the details of his death. I don’t know what was going on in his life. He was a gentle and sensitive soul. Maybe too sensitive to live in what can be a very rough world sometimes. And while I’m sad that for whatever reason, this is how his journey ended, I can’t be angry, as is the natural reaction sometimes when someone commits suicide. Because I understand in a way. This isn’t to say I condone or in any way endorse it but I can understand it.
While I have never actually contemplated suicide, I have been in that place. Where everything seems so bleak, so heavy, so overwhelming. Where even if you don’t actually want to take your life, part of you thinks “I wouldn’t mind if I just didn’t wake up tomorrow, though.” I’m sorry that whatever he was going through obviously overwhelmed and blinded him to the fact that he was loved and that many would be hurt and devastated by his loss. Even old friends who he may not have realized even remembered his existence any more. Any time I’ve been in the depths of a funk, this has always been my overriding thought. The thought of how much losing me would hurt my mom, my dad, all those who love me and all those who I might not even know love me, all those who I don’t even know I mean anything at all to.
I’m always kind of surprised at how much I’m affected when I learn of the death of someone from my past. Someone who I’ve had no interaction with in years, or decades. But then I think about it and I shouldn’t be surprised. Every single person I’ve ever known, loved, or had any meaningful interaction with is part of who I today. Chuck Pehl who lived down the road from me as a child. James Mikel from 4th grade. Sheila Vincent, my major crush from 4th through 8th grade. Dave Westerman (RIP), the bass player in my first band. Hundreds, thousands of people. You’re all a part of making me who I am today and who I will be in the future (just to make sure that was clear, those people are all alive as far as I know except Dave).
No matter who you are, I can promise you that there a lot of people who love you and would miss you. Maybe you know that, maybe you don’t. There are countless more who you have no idea even think about or care, but they do. And if it ever gets too hard to believe that or remember that, then focus on this: I love you and care about you.
RIP, my friend. The world is a lesser place without you. For those of us still here, please believe me, it would be a lesser place without any of you as well.
State of the Eaf Address
0For some reason I feel the need to say this. To let you all behind the curtain for a moment. The last year or so has been one of the toughest of my life, for a lot of reasons. The end of my 7 year marriage, followed by another intense and passionate relationship that ended very badly (in some ways, although we are still friends), the usual ups and downs of career, friendships, creative relationships and all the stuff we all have to deal with from time to time.
There was a time when I pretty much lived completely openly online. Good, bad and ugly, I put it all out there for anyone who cared to see. Over the years, I’ve changed and started trying to pretty much keep it all positive. I don’t really care to expose everything to the world at large any more (and besides, no one wants to hear a bunch of “woe is me, feel my pain” BS) but for some reason I just felt somehow deceptive or something sort of keeping this all to myself.
Now here’s the thing: my life is 95% amazing and awesome. But then there’s the 5%. A toxic 5% that somehow seems to permeate, infect and somehow seem to counteract the other 95%. It casts a grey funk that sits just below the surface, like when you have a dull throbbing headache so subtle that you’re not even sure if you have a headache but yet it still saps you.
Obviously, some days are better, some worse, but I feel stuck, like the weight of my past has finally become too heavy and I can’t get out from under it. I know I will and it’s kind of weird because there is still plenty of happiness present within me. I’m not some depressed wreck or anything. Just that constant dull throbbing, dulling everything else. A part of me that seems broken and damaged. I’ve loved so deeply that I’ve left pieces of myself behind each time and now there’s not enough left to want to try again.
Now I’m no fool. I know myself. Eternal, hopeless romantic. I know that the day will come when I will meet someone who makes me go all Googly eyed and there will be full on double rainbows, all the way and all that. But for the moment, I’m so sick of this weight. Of the inability to escape my past, enjoy the present and look to the future.
So in short, if I’ve been less than the greatest of friends lately, it’s not you, it’s me. To quote Billy Joel, “When I’m deep inside of me, don’t be too concerned. I won’t ask for nothing while I’m gone.”
I love you all and appreciate all my friends immensely, even if I can also be a misanthrope and a loner. I’m a complicated man and no one understands me but…uhh…wait, no, that’s “Shaft.” Ah well, works for me too.